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by Carol Hamilton

Outside my idling moment,
a pink tagboard, soggy with the rains
and black marker strokes fuzzy,
sits on a grassy corner
beside the stoplight:
Fridays 4-7:30. There beneath
the metal Warning: Electical Wires Buried
sign?  Where stop? A quick cash exchange
out the passenger window
before the light turns?
Today is only Wednesday, the day
that promises temporary relief ahead.
I say a short prayer
that this venture works,
some ready money
before a new week begins,
a little hope for somebody.


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